


Lover/Fighter

by Kaesteranya



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An odd (sexy) sort of apology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover/Fighter

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 31 Days theme for October 26, 2005. Set pre-game, during Braska’s pilgrimage.
> 
> The Ochu is that plant monster that does sleep and blinding effects in-game. It’s a prelude to the horror that is the Marlboro in the Calm Lands. @_@

Their encounter with the Ochu had left the three of them dizzy, half-blind, sneezing and quite completely and miserably covered in plant gunk. It had not been one of their best fights: the Ochu had swallowed Jecht when the man had foolishly charged forward and right into the range of its large feelers. Braska had panicked for fear of their friend, and promptly summoned in Ifrit, who took the fight a little too seriously and lobbed a burning meteor straight into the Ochu’s mouth, which the creature made the mistake of swallowing. This caused it to explode from the inside, sending a relatively singed Jecht hurling out among the rest of the organic debris and flinging the man face-first into a nearby tree.

 

Jecht was fuming, Braska was apologetic and Auron stalked away from them both to clean himself up. Evening was upon them, with the sun close to setting on their first full day of not talking to each other from morning until night since they had started their journey together. The cold war, in actuality, was something Auron had started: it was a result of the Zanarkandian traveler going wild in the ferry station, wounding one of the Shoopufs in his drunken delusions. Paying the ferryman had left their party penniless, and would likely force them to camp out at the side of the road all the way until Macalania Forest. Suffice to say, Jecht was repentant and Braska was quick to forgive him. Auron, however, immediately got into a shouting match with Jecht, and then later refused to say a word to either of them.

 

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should call Auron over…” Braska trailed off, smiling as he noticed the dark look cross Jecht’s face. “Well, we can’t just wait for him to come back. You know how he is when he’s in one of those moods.”

 

“Yeah. I know.” Jecht stood up, scratching at the scruff of his neck as he turned and walked away. “Guess I better do it. He might bite your head off, and all.”

 

The nocturnal flowers along the Moonflow were unfurling their petals, releasing a multitude of pyre flies into the air; the ghostly creatures hovered about, their haunting song weaving through the air as they danced around and then upward, forming a path to the moon above with their bodies.

 

Jecht found Auron amidst all this beauty, standing waist-deep in the Moonflow to wash himself clean in the company of ghosts and spirits. The man’s matte black sword was propped up against a nearby tree, standing guard over his crimson cloak and the rest of his clothes. He had let his hair down, but it did little to disguise the scars about his body, illuminated by the passing of pyre flies.

 

“…Mind if I join you?” Jecht nearly winced at the hatred that flashed in his direction, when Auron turned to pierce him with a brief, hot look. The blitzballer coughed and opted to ignore the younger man’s hostility; he removed his own clothes and waded into the water, unmindful of the cold.

 

“Fuck it, Auron, I already said I was sorry. I mean, heck, Braska forgave me! Just pull that damned stick out of your ass! What more do you want me to do?” Jecht reached for Auron’s shoulder, only to have his hand smacked away. The younger man’s pale eyes were cold fire and steel to behold.

 

“First off,” the swordsman tersely returned, “I want you to leave me in peace.”

 

Jecht grabbed Auron’s wrist before he could move away and jerked the latter forward; he stumbled against the older man’s chest, his breath hitching against Jecht’s skin. The Zanarkandian easily overpowered him, in every attempt he made to get free. Jecht grabbed the young swordsman by the chin tilted his face upward, forcing him to look at him.

 

“I’m not about to do that.”

 

In twelve seconds of forever the pair were left staring at each other, breathing together in one space. They were kissing before either of them was aware of it, making up for the injury between them by attempting to swallow the other whole. It wasn’t long before it wasn’t just their lips meeting, but the hardness of their bodies and all the warmth and need between.

 

Auron broke away first, to catch his breath and turn away from the man who sent his mind spinning out of control. “…I don’t know why I even bothered with you back then,” he muttered, moving away. Jecht grinned.

 

“Guess it must be because you can’t resist me, drunk or sober.” His arrogance earned him the first smile he had seen on Auron’s face since the first time they had woken up in each other’s arms.

 

When Jecht and Auron returned in each other’s company talking of the journey ahead and how best to fight the next Ochu they encountered, Braska only smiled and welcomed them to sit by the fire, where they would share a meal under the stars.


End file.
